[Episode] Baterilla at Night - Of Rats and Wolves

Quest Request:

Paradise was a silly word. People liked to delude themselves into thinking such a thing could truly exist. Some especially foolish folks seemed to think that they could create one of their own.  Splashing on a shiny coat of smiles and sunshine, they swept suffering and injustice under the rug. Made them someone else’s problem. But that’s the thing, see... Those problems never truly went away. And when people closed their eyes, those problems crawled out of hiding...

The crescent moon was sneaking behind a curtain of clouds. Only occasionally it peeked past the veil at the sleepy port town below. Lanterns were out. The windows were dark. When the light was scarce, shadows came out to play. They painted the streets and flooded the alleys. In their embrace, things started seeming strange. Unfamiliar. Frightening. At night, it felt like nothing was quite what it seemed.

However, some souls were used to the shadows. They could see things that evaded honest eyes. Details. Silhouettes. Like there... In the grimy alley, a couple of rats were squabbling over a stale bagel dropped by some thoughtless tourist. With startled squeaks, they suddenly scattered. A much bigger rat strutted by...

The curious moon glanced at the traveler. Its silver beam passed over a chocolate brown suit and a wide-brimmed hat. The man’s lanky figure cast a twisted, skeletal shadow against the dirty brick walls. In his grasp, a hefty suitcase swung like a lazy pendulum. A cheap cigarette burned between his sharp teeth. It veiled his sly silhouette in gray haze.

Richard had always considered Baterilla a lovely place to visit, for vacation and otherwise. Tourists were a ripe, low-hanging fruit always in season. However, a man like him couldn’t live on fruit alone. No, he needed something heartier. Something that would keep his pockets feeling full for a good, long while. He was in the mood for some meaty mafia money.

Now, stealing from the local crime families was a task suited only for the exceptionally brave. Or the exceptionally stupid. The sharp-dressed rat considered himself a member of the first category. He had a plan, see.

Just earlier, the entrepreneur had run into a talkative fellow at a local drinking hole. A couple of free drinks had really loosened the guy’s lips. Interesting tidbits had been spewing out alongside spittle. The conversation had covered a bunch of fascinating topics, such as this little protection racket squeezing money out of the local artisans.

Apparently, some of the poorer folk couldn’t pay in money, so they paid in produce instead. Wine, tobacco, chocolate... All products that sold well if you had the connections. Why, such a scheme was positively illegal. Someone had to do something about it.

Thus, the plan was simple. The self-appointed Robin Hood would graciously liberate the ill-gotten goods and distribute them to the poor. As it happened, he was the poorest person present. It was like taxation without the government in between.

Naturally, the rat would leave a little thank you note pointing towards a rival family. By the time anyone figured out what had actually happened, he would already be halfway to Sabaody. Really, his only regret was that he wouldn’t be around to watch the fireworks. Oh well.

Sneaking through the murky alleys, the shady figure approached one of the many storehouses lining the docks. The right one was easy to spot. It had a bored-looking man in a fairly expensive suit standing in front of it. For a savvy thief, it was practically a beacon. Like a town crier shouting ‘this place has something worth stealing’. He greeted the fellow with a brick.

While the guard was sleeping off a bloody concussion, the thief went to work. The hefty suitcase clicked open. A set of surgical instruments were laid out. Only, these were not meant to operate on a person, but rather a door. They stabbed into the steel opening, poking and prodding with mechanical precision. See, even the sturdiest vault was only effective as its weakest lock.

Something moved in the shadows...

The lockpicks stopped.

Richard squinted at the silhouette sitting on a nearby trash can. Was that a cat wearing a tiny hat...? Or a fat raccoon with an upturned cup on its head? While he couldn’t be sure either way, he absolutely recognized the shape of an empty glass bottle next to it. “...Please, don’t.” He squeaked weakly. The animal placed its paw against the bottle. “Don’t you dare...!” He hissed through gritted teeth.

A gentle nudge...

Was followed by a LOUD crash.

The rat recoiled at the shrill noise. In the silence of the night, it sounded deafening. For a brief moment, he prayed to every deity and a handful of demons that no one had heard the racket. Only his heartbeat thumped in the darkness.

Then... Richard heard approaching footsteps. A beam of light cut through the inky night. Hiding the incriminating tools behind his back, he resorted to his most natural tactic. “...It’s not what it looks like.” He lied.

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Total: 841 / 5000